Mr Hyde and Doctor Jekyll
by dangerousdame
Summary: Every story has more then one point of view...


Mr. Hyde and Doctor Jekyll

_Note: Just in case this isn't public domain, I don't own these characters. Big surprise, huh?_

Some people forget things in their life, but I do not. My blessing and my curse is to remember every experience, every emotion since the day I was born. Though I suppose in the long run it was not that long ago. But I was born as fully formed as I would ever be- physically, emotionally, and mentally. Even if, through some whim of God or the Devil, I wanted to change, I do not believe I could do so.

My name is Edward Hyde. I suppose it would be more accurate to call it my alias, since no beloved parent ever gave it to me. It was given to me by a man whose name I despised yet on whose life I depended. The man who wanted to be rid of me so much that he destroyed any chance of having a normal life. The man they call Henry Jekyll.

Tody my name is infamous throughout the world. People use it to express pure evil, perhaps accurately. But I did not ask to be made- once I was created, an amalgamation of a mans dark side, no one could have expected me to behave contrary to my nature without deceiving themselves greatly. Denying ones true nature was a vice of Henry Jekyll's, but never one of Edward Hyde's.

Pleasure was the first emotion I ever experienced. There are some who are not aware of how precious life is, but I was aware of it from that first moment. After years of being caged, I was finally free. That feeling was one I would often try to recall in my darkest hours.

I fell in love with my own reflection when I saw it in a mirror- not narcissistically, just a feeling of welcome at knowing myself. I was fashioned in a way that might be considered ugly, but to me I was beautiful. I relished the horrified glances from passers-by, for they confirmed to me what I already knew- that I was different, above the wretched masses called the human race.

If a woman bothered me, I struck her and took pleasure in the blow, for no reason other than that I could. If I took an item from a shop without paying for it, well, so what? Even if I threw the item into the gutter immediately afterwards, that did not matter to me- it was the pleasure of the conquest. If some little brat got in my way, I could walk on top of her as simply as around her.

That last act was nearly my undoing, for the onlookers felt so enraged at this that they nearly tore me to pieces- much more than had happened to the little girl, who was merely frightened at the most. I was able to escape, but this was the first time I realized that my nature could prove dangerous not only for others, but for myself as well.

One of these dangers was from my "other self", the esteemed Doctor Jekyll. Even now, I have a difficult time referring to that man, or even imagining him, as myself. I would stare at the books in the study, and wonder how I could possibly make sense of those things, much less read them for enjoyment.

But the doctor still posed a danger to me. I had to limit myself to minor acts displeasing to the public, since I knew that if I acted out too harshly, he- or I, whichever way you see it- would cut back on the potion, or, if my acts were truly horrendous, end both our lives. It may seem strange, but as much as I was displeased with the world, and as much contempt as I had for those in it, I loved life with a kind of desperate passion impossible to describe, and could not bear to imagine losing it.

And so I turned my fury inward- towards him. I despised him with all my soul, if I even have one. At first I was indifferent to my other half, but as I came to realize how much power he had over me, I truly hated him. In frustration at the books I could not understand and the portraits of relatives I had no recollection of, I tore at his paintings and scribbled obscenely in his books. As I transformed back into him (I had to, or else people would notice he was missing), I would stand in front of the mirror, cursing the cowardice and hypocrisy that had created me, yet in need of it to stay alive.

But my cries were in vain, for the good doctor betrayed me. He decided it would be easier living with only one self, or that it was wrong to become pure evil, or whatever it was that made him decide to shut me away. He forswore the potion, and I lived in agony bottled up inside of him.

I do not know how it happened, but soon the potion became nearly obsolete, except for transformations back into Jekyll. I soon found myself emerging from him without the aid of any drink. This was as terrifying for me as it was for him, for I would often have to dash out of rooms to keep people from seeing me change.

But having been caged for so long, I found myself at the height of my power, my full rage. I did not care at the time what happened to me, for I had decided I needed to unleash all of my pent-up destruction. It was a decision I would come to regret.

While walking, I passed by an elderly man. The man then made a remark of some sort. The irony is that I do not remember what he said that infuriated me (it was most likely something completely innocent), but he threw me into a murderous fury. I beat him down savagely, enjoying every blow. I only realized what I had done after he had stopped moving.

I suppose you know the rest. How the resulting manhunt forced me to hide. How Jekyll took poison, killing us both. How I was finally destroyed.

Or was I?

By writing this, I do no look for sympathy, understanding, or pity. I only wish to tell my own version of the truth.

My name is Edward Hyde. And I live.


End file.
